Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
I loved the fruity pebbled hills that filled the short drive to Brevard, but my mind wandered elsewhere. The dream from last night kept coming back to me. To make it worse, the reality played out again—Clark’s eyes, intense and smoldering, his hand on my cheek last night as he came in for a kiss.
Get a grip, Aurora , I scolded myself.
Dreaming about a man I’d just met—one associated with a notorious biker gang, no less—was silly.
I pulled into my mom’s driveway just as the sky clouded over, a chill settling in the air. Grabbing my purse, I got out of the car, only to hear the distant rumble of a motorcycle approaching. My heart sank.
No fucking way.
Sure enough, Clark’s Harley roared up behind me, parking at the curb. He swung off the bike with casual ease.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low as I moved toward him.
There was that smirk. “Nice to see you too, Aurora.”
“You followed me?” I accused, my eyes darting toward the house where my mom was now descending the front steps.
He arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t follow you.”
“Aurora, sweetheart!” my mom called out, her eyes lighting up as she noticed Clark. “And who might this be?”
Before I could formulate a response, Clark stepped forward, extending a hand. “Clark, ma’am. From Nashville.”
My mom’s gaze flickered between us. “Clark? As in, the Clark? I thought he was just a figment of your imagination.”
Clark chuckled, pulling me close with his arm draped over my shoulders. “I’m very real, I assure you. Aurora would never make up something like that.”
I gave him a piercing look, but the glint in his eye warned me not to contradict him.
Great. Just great.
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” Mom beamed. “Come inside, both of you. It’s getting chilly out here.”
“Actually, Mom, why don’t you head in? Clark will help me get the bags,” I suggested, eager to buy a moment alone with him.
“Of course. Don’t dawdle now. I’ve got Aurora’s room all set up,” she called over her shoulder. “Though I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you to bring company. I don’t think I can cancel inviting Mark to dinner on such short notice.”
I groaned inwardly. Mark. The ex who wouldn’t take a hint.
As Mom disappeared inside, I rounded on Clark. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He propped himself against his motorcycle with his arms crossed. “Helping you out, apparently.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” I snapped.
He shrugged. “Seemed like you could use it. Unless you want your mom thinking, you made me up.”
I exhaled heavily, rubbing my temples. “This is a mess.”
“Could be worse,” he said lightly. “At least now you have a real boyfriend to fend off the ex.”
I looked at him skeptically. “And what’s in it for you?”
He smiled enigmatically. “Making an honest woman of you.”
I scoffed, but the damage had been done. “Look, will you stay and be my fake date for dinner? After that, I’ll get a room somewhere, and you can go... do whatever it is you do.”
He raised his brow. “Not planning to stay in your cozy childhood room with me?”
“Absolutely not,” I retorted.
“Fair enough.”
I crossed my arms. “I can’t believe you followed me here.”
He straightened, his expression turning serious. “I told you. I didn’t follow you.”
“Then how do you explain showing up at my mom’s house?” I challenged.
He nodded toward the house directly across the street. “Because my mom lives right there.”
I blinked, processing his words. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Born and raised in Brevard, remember?”
I glanced between him and the residence across the street, a quaint two-story with a wraparound porch. Just then, the front door opened, and a woman stepped out alongside an older man who leaned on a cane.
“Clark! There you are!” the woman called out, waving.
He waved back. “Hey, Ma! Grandad!”
I stared in disbelief. “This is unreal.”
He grinned. “Small world, huh?”
“Too small,” I muttered.
He looked back at me. “So, as much as I’d love to be your fake date, I’ve got dinner plans with my family.”
I felt relieved yet also a bit bummed out. “Right. Of course.”
“But maybe afterward, we can catch up,” he suggested.
I hesitated. “We’ll see.”
“Better get those bags inside before your mom sends out a search party,” he teased.
I sighed, reaching into the trunk to grab my suitcase. Clark stepped forward, taking it from me with ease.
“I’ve got it,” he said.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
As we reached the front steps, he handed me the suitcase.
“Good luck with dinner,” he muttered.
“Yeah. You too.”
Our eyes met momentarily, an unspoken understanding passing between us. Then he turned and jogged back to his own family on the other side.
I watched as his mom embraced him, the older man clapping him on the back. A pang of something—jealousy? longing?—stirred in my chest.
“Aurora, dear, come inside.” Mom’s voice broke through my thoughts.
I plastered on a smile and stepped into the warmth of the house. The aroma of apple pie and cinnamon was reminiscent of the warm hug that I didn’t get from my mom.
“There you are,” Mom said, taking my coat. “Isn’t this exciting? Both our families together on Thanksgiving.”
“Wait, both families?” I echoed.
She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! When I realized Clark’s mother was Mary, who lives right across the street, I called. We decided to have dinner all together. Isn’t that wonderful?”
My stomach dropped. “Wonderful.”
“And don’t worry about Mark. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to meet everyone,” she added cheerfully.
This just keeps getting better.
I forced a smile. “Great, Mom.”
“Now, why don’t you freshen up? Dinner will be ready shortly.”
I headed upstairs to my old bedroom, closing the door behind me with a sigh. Leaning against it, I tried to make sense of the whirlwind of events.
Clark the biker was my neighbor. Our moms were now coordinating a joint Thanksgiving dinner. My ex was still coming. And I had a fake boyfriend who was only partially on board.
I flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. What am I going to do?